


strictly business

by gdgdbaby



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:13:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gdgdbaby/pseuds/gdgdbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is used to complete obliteration of physical boundaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	strictly business

**Author's Note:**

> set during filming for s3, written for advent. originally posted at [livejournal](http://gdgdbaby.livejournal.com/97257.html).

The heat goes out at Holland and Crystal's place for several days at the end of January, something about the thermocouple in the heater pilot getting burnt to a crisp—or was it the thermostat itself that was broken? 

The point is: it's freezing in their apartment, definitely subzero even on a good day, and walking around the house in fifty layers can only do so much. Which means the girls get to spend the foreseeable future living with him and Posey while building management scrambles to fix whatever went wrong.

Posey, because he's Posey, magnanimously offers Crystal full reign of his room for however long they end up having to stay. Holland raises her eyebrows at Dylan and he manages to keep a straight face on as he leads her to his room and swings the door open to the disaster zone within.

"You're a fiend," she says, voice wry, eyes flicking from ceiling to floor. The only thing that looks marginally okay is the bed—everything else is a riot of crumpled clothing flung over furniture and stacks of books and DVDs on every flat surface available. "We've only been here for—it's barely been two months. How do you live with yourself?"

"Oh, you know, I get by," he says. "But it is a daily struggle." He crosses his arms and leans against the door. "Have the room, though. The couch is perfectly fine for me."

"Thanks," Holland says, shaking her head. "I'll take it." She eyes the precariously positioned tower of laundry at the foot of the bed with mild consternation. "If I don't come out in the morning, you'll know what happened to me."

 

 

Living with girls involves less upheaval than he'd imagined: just two new toothbrushes with matching cups on the linoleum countertop, extra towels on the drying rack, a few different bottles of shampoo. They spend most of their time on set together, anyway. The apartment's only supposed to be for sleep.

Of course, staying with Posey in the living room means burnt hot pockets at six in the morning after ten hours shooting a night scene, and extended Halo battles on the Xbox 360 when they should by all rights be passed out already, and waking up with his nose pressed into Posey's shin or Posey's elbow digging painfully into his side. It doesn't really bother him that they always end up spooning, for all intents and purposes—Dylan'd grown up with a little sister who liked clinging to him more often than not, and he is used to complete obliteration of physical boundaries.

"Cute," Crystal says the first time it happens, the morning after they've temporarily moved in and she's brushing her teeth in the kitchen while Holland makes use of the shower.

Posey blinks blearily at her, his arm brushing against Dylan's stomach. "Thank you," he says, grinning. Dylan's throat clicks drily as he swallows.

 

 

"It's definitely _Strangers on a Plane_ ," Posey's saying, tilting back on two legs of his chair.

"Stop," Dylan says, as he drains mixed greens in a colander by the sink. "That doesn't even make sense—come on, I'm pretty sure planes weren't even in commercial use when _Strangers on a Train_ came out."

"Now you're the one being stupid," he says, serene. "The Wright brothers invented the first airplane in 1903. Everyone knows this."

"Yeah," Dylan says. "They invented a _one-man glider_. A little difficult to meet strangers when you're in one of those."

"Has either of you even seen that movie before?" Holland asks pointedly. She's flicking through channels on the couch, feet tucked underneath her. Crystal's sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through Dylan's copy of _Moneyball_.

"Nope," they reply in unison. Holland shakes her head. "Salad's ready," Dylan continues. He dumps the lettuce into a big glass bowl, drizzles Italian dressing all over it and puts it next to the breaded chicken cutlets. "Can you get the—"

"Got it," Posey says, moving fluidly past him to fish the pan of macaroni and cheese out of the oven.

Crystal and Holland meander to the dining table, eyes scanning the food. "Dinner is served," he says with a flourish.

"I'm impressed," Holland says, sliding into a chair. Dylan scoops generous servings out onto their plates. "We should do this more often." She grins. "I can provide alcohol."

Posey waggles his eyebrows and Crystal laughs. "I'm sure something can be arranged," Dylan says, and starts stuffing cutlet into his mouth.

Hoechlin and Daniel stomp in late after filming some last minute chase scene with the new alphas. The four of them are curled up in front of the television by then, watching old reruns of _Friends_ on the basic cable channel. Posey warms up two plates of food and hands them off before dropping back down next to Dylan, their shoulders bumping against each other companionably, legs stretched out across the floorboards.

 

 

Dylan tearfully waves them off with a crumpled handkerchief when the heater business is finally sorted out a week later, with profuse apologies from the building.

"We're just moving back downstairs," Crystal says, toiletries in hand. "This is unnecessary."

"My babies," Posey wails, clutching his chest. "Moving away from home without a thought for the ones they're leaving behind—"

"Housewarming party this weekend, yes?" Dylan wheedles, changing tacks. "You promised alcohol, yes? Holland?"

"Oh my God," she says, halfway out the apartment already. " _We're just moving back downstairs_ , you idiots."

"I'll take that as a yes," Dylan says, pumping his fist, and Posey sends him a beatific smile as the door snaps shut behind them.


End file.
